


may you bloom, always

by mulkki



Category: IDOLiSH7 (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 01:38:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15719274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mulkki/pseuds/mulkki
Summary: Spring comes and goes, and so do the people in their lives. Sometimes they come back, and sometimes they stay.(written for Spring Harmony zine)





	may you bloom, always

**Author's Note:**

> this was my entry for the Spring Harmony zine, I had a lot of fun writing and participating! ^o^
> 
> **note:** This is a managers-centric fic, with each group’s manager having a part in their POV. The first two are Tsumugi and Anesagi, with no spoilers for game part 1 and anime viewers, and the next two do have bits from parts 2 and 3 in the game (chapter 3 is Re:vale’s manager, while chapter 4 is a wrap-up of most everyone).

**I. Takanashi Tsumugi**

Spring used to be crisp new uniforms, pristine white notebooks, and flurries of _nice to meet you_ s and _let’s do well this year!_ s underneath the familiar flutters of pink and white.

Every year a new uniform, a new classroom, new faces around her—but still, a certain formula to it all, the expectations of where the new ribbon color sits in her reflection and the reminders to buy notebooks in advance before they sell out, and making sure her dad heads off to work properly instead of trying (every year) to accompany her on her first day.

_(“Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you? It’s your first day—”_

_“—Dad, I’ll be fine! We go through this every year, now get to work before Oogami-san starts wondering where you are, okay?”)_

So it’s… _even newer_ when spring arrives this year. Familiar uniforms are replaced with business suits, armfuls of notebooks with a heavy laptop, and the cheery _let’s have fun this year, too!_ s transform into polite, reserved _thank you_ s that come with ninety-degree bows and business card exchanges that are a dance of their own. It’s a graduation from the past twelve years of student-life spring, and her world expands from the school building and her way home to the entire bustling city as she learns her way to the dorms, compiles multiple paths to TV stations and recording studios, and builds a mental database of all the little places in between. 

It’s on her way back when a blossom falls and lands on her nose, and she realizes the glimpses of familiar pink and white that have already surrounded her. How long has it been since her new spring started? _Time has flown by so quickly,_ she thinks as she steps onto her next train. But maybe—just maybe, as her train speeds up and the flowers turn into blurs—the world hasn’t changed all that much. It’s comforting knowing some things will always be there: she’s growing up and has a new role to fulfill, but her world will continue to bloom pink every year like the trees as she passes by Ikebukuro—

—and with it, a glimpse of Nagi’s favorite anime on a billboard.

She smiles quietly to herself. Maybe the scenery has changed a little, after all.

The train moves on, passing by Takadanobaba _(they once had a live performance at a university around here)_ , Shinjuku _(Yamato has a bar he likes around that alley, and honestly she’s still not sure she believes he goes with Gaku)_ , Shibuya _(she won’t forget the look on Mitsuki’s face when his first variety show ad went up on the screens, even if his face was up for barely a second)_ , Meguro _(Sougo likes shopping around here, he mentioned some really lovely vintage stores in the area with price tags she mentally blocks out)_ , and she counts the new memories with each glimpse of billboard, store sign, narrow street—all gently framed by the constant pink. 

* * *

The train slows to a stop at her station, and as she exits she makes a beeline to her next errand. Once at the stationery store she picks up a notebook for Tamaki—

_(“I want the King Pudding one, okay?”_

_“Yotsuba-san, don’t be so demanding. And Manager, stop spoiling him.”)_

—and as she catches a subtle cat-themed one next to it, it doesn’t take long for her to leave the store with both in hand. Iori would like it, even though he’s the type to stock up in advance. That, and he’s a nice boy who will accept it after she ‘insists’ he have it—it should take around three times.

She moves on then to a familiar bookstore to pick up a couple of volumes. The first one she picks up isn’t one to her usual tastes, but Riku’s unusually strong recommendation, eyes shining behind the glasses he’s forgotten he still has on, somehow makes her want to give it a chance. The second she picks up is a response to the first, a book that she’d like to give him in return. Swapping books like this is fun, she thinks, despite Iori’s warning buzzing in her ears _(‘Stop spoiling Nanase-san, please’)_. And to her surprise the old lady at the counter hasn’t changed, still working the register like the day Banri bought her a book here. Standing in the very spot she’s in right now, actually.

_(”A gift for starting high school,” he’d smiled at her, handing her the wrapped book with a familiar pat on the head and the good graces to ignore the growing blush on her cheeks._

_“A-a-aw, t-thank you, Oogami-san? I-I mean, thank you!” Her tongue feels twice as thick, and somehow in the span of three seconds she’s forgotten basic manners. “Y-you really didn’t have to!”_

_Banri’s smile gets softer, and he distractedly fiddles with his hair. It’s gotten long enough to pull into a short stub behind him. “I didn’t, but I wanted to. Your father—ah, the President—has really helped me out, after all! And, well, you guys are like family by now.” He gives her another pat on the head, and Tsumugi desperately hopes he can’t feel the steam that is most definitely pouring from her head. “I want to do something for you guys, for all you’ve done for me.”)_

As she walks out, neatly-wrapped package in hand, her eyes trace the faintly visible title underneath the brown paper. It strikes her, then: _maybe things are the same, after all_. It’s just that she’s on the other side, the side of helping others grow, as she in turn received so much support before.

Spring is a season of growth, after all, and though her place might change, that never will.

 

 

 

 

**II. Anesagi Kaoru**

To be honest, Anesagi prefers Autumn.

There’s something about it—the cold snap in the air and the scarves she picks out in response, or the shifting store displays from bright and immature to more classic and timeless… or maybe it’s because the Autumn fashion collections are bigger and better, she sighs, as she flips through another disappointing page in this overall weak spring collection.

She’d be lying if she said she disliked bright colors, though, seeing as she’s one to match them on herself—effortlessly, mind you, with the _sophistication and grace befitting the city careerwoman she is_ (as another hideous page crumples in her grip). It takes a certain sense of refinement and an elevated eye to do so, not like these cheap collections where all they do is throw a lot at you. _Quantity over quality,_ that’s what the spring collection is nowadays. It’s a lot of cheap entertainment dumped out with some equally cheap and small starlet or idol of the moment, and it’s really the sheer quantity that makes it worth mentioning: like how a blossom by itself is small, nothing special, easily crushed. It’s only in numbers that it becomes anything worth talking about.

Of course, like the flowers, none of them last long; showbiz, fashion, flowers, they’re all the same. You can have flavors of the season but it’s all temporary at best, like this new and entirely forgettable little starlet she’ll stop thinking about as soon as she turns the page. Products that stand the test of time are rare.

Her hands stop, then, as her eyes land on the next page: it’s TRIGGER, modelling some high-end fashion label’s spring collection. Her fingers trace the edge of the ad, and her eyes take in the sight: the cut of the suits, the bold but refined placement of accessories, and strategic pops of color among the more careful neutrals of menswear. Whoever did this art direction has a good eye, she concedes, but she lets herself give into the sense of smug satisfaction that her boys are what have potentially saved this god-awful spring issue. Her boys are a high-end brand in themselves, and she won’t need the sales reports to know the products will _fly_ off the shelves.

She looks again. Gaku is in his natural element, with glasses for an added touch of sophistication: perhaps to set him off against the others, or perhaps because someone in their staff watched his school drama. Either way they work well with the outfit, and he has a good expression on his face. Gaku’s strength is his versatility, after all, and it lets him slip into any role or concept and pull it off. Good, good—the repeat drama roles have helped his expressiveness. She’ll give him that: he gets worked up about getting things right, and he’s progressed from overly relying on his looks to making them work for _him_. She actually owes him one thanks to those developed skills, since it got her a Nagi photo—er, rather, good reviews from the TV station on the spring special episode they recorded earlier.

She moves on to Ryuunosuke, who is perfectly following the company’s strategies as usual: his eyes glow hot underneath the rough tousle of hair, and the casual hand running through it sets it off just right. His head is perfectly angled to expose the stretch of smooth skin along his throat, capturing your eyes and leading them down to his chest—it was probably supposed to call out the shirt, but _really_ , who pays attention to clothes when Ryuunosuke models? _They don’t even need to contour that chest,_ she thinks, smug smile curling up even more. Post-production staff barely have any work to do when it comes to her boys, and Ryuu himself has developed a confidence in himself that she never would’ve expected in that... shy bumpkin she’d first met.

And the perfection continues with Tenn, coy smile curling his lips as he rests his head on one hand in that perfectly crafted innocent upward gaze. She knows, really, she _knows_ that it’s all calculated, but she _still_ has to take a moment to remember that she is _Anesagi Kaoru, manager to TRIGGER_ , and not some stranger about to be wrapped up in that illusion. Tenn is too good at this, sometimes— _all the time_ —as she shakes her head and remembers last year’s ad campaign. That cycle of in-situ ads didn’t last long, not after the subway lines called to complain about them causing traffic jams along walkways. They rereleased them digitally, but the damage was done—literally, when someone broke a panel to rip out a poster.

Her eyes take in the overall picture again, and she decides that this spring collection _might_ actually be salvageable—no thanks to the handful of small fry she’s already forgotten. Who would remember them anyway, after they see this? She tsks, then, realizing the editorial hand behind the decision to place them in the back: it ends the collection on a high note, saving a collection made of mostly ‘cheap’ and ‘boring’. It’s a pity she can’t send invoices to the rest of the labels for riding on their coattails, but it’s fine this time. It means people will remember and appreciate her boys all the more. There’s already an email in her inbox from the fashion house asking them to model again, a clear sign that they understand just what her boys have done: they’ve made spring into something worth looking at.

Well, _good_. Spring doesn’t have to be all fast cheap looks, and if anyone’s going to elevate this season into something _more_ it’s going to be _her_ TRIGGER. Of course they’ll conquer the Autumn collections, too, but there’s no harm in improving spring. They could be the one guarantee every year, the staple in people’s lives promising something worth looking at every season. After all, who else is going to do it?

 

 

 

 

**III. Okazaki Rinto**

Each season at the Okazaki Agency is a surprise, and really, Okazaki Rinto should be used to it by now.

That doesn’t stop him, though, from wishing for something nice and calm every now and then. Especially in the spring, when all the festivities are done. People are winding down from the high tension of the holidays, and the weather’s finally getting warm again—meaning no more calling Yuki to make sure he hasn’t left the heater on in a dangerous place, Momo to stop sleeping naked with the window open, that kind of stuff. Just the seasonal additions to his duties.

Spring, however, is supposed to be calm. It’s when businesses stabilize into everyday routine after the hectic emergencies that define the holidays, and the students are back in school, housewives can shop normally again, et cetera. People are supposed to get to stop every now and then to look at the softly blooming flowers—to take a moment, relax, and appreciate life (and take a picture, add a hashtag, and if they’re feeling particularly adventurous make it a selfie with stickers; that’s the kind of popular youthful thing nowadays, right?). If you ask anyone, any _normal living human_ in this country, they’d agree: spring is lovely, calming, and _nice_.

But this is the Okazaki Agency, and he, Okarin, is in charge of top idol and mega-superstar and—admittedly with some mixed feelings of pride and stomach pain—the biggest asset to their small label: the one and only—

“—Has anyone heard from them?”

“No, sorry! Ah, but the TV station is on line two, Mister Shimooka wants to know the final details—”

“—We’d have them if we _knew where they were_ —” There’s a crash of something somewhere, which is probably the new intern Ono and his frightening ability to drop things with impeccable timing. “—Ono, clean that up! No, not _now_! Answer the TV station first, tell them we’re still sorting things out but they’ll hear back by end of day! And Satou! Have you found them yet?!”

“No, sir!”

As he watches his coworkers panic Okarin downs his stomach medicine in one gulp, slams the bottle down, and rolls the cricks out of his neck. Every season is a surprise when you work with Re:vale, and spring doesn’t get to be an exception.

* * *

 

...Five blurry hours later Okarin has to admit: that went _really_ well. Surprisingly, and unsurprisingly. Surprisingly because IDOLiSH7 and TRIGGER both popped up out of nowhere and Momo decided to be very inventive with a bundle of flowering branches and what he hopes wasn’t actually Yuki’s face on underwear, but _unsurprisingly_ because they all had fun, the audience had fun, and it ended well with high ratings and an explosive slap on the back from Mister Shimooka. Now that he thinks about it, every season is like this.

“That’s Re:vale for you! I knew I could always count on ‘em for something fun.”

He stifles the cough from the heavy-handed slap and manages to gasp out a “thank you, our Re:vale did their best” as he straightens up and adjusts his glasses.

“Your boys are crazy! But that’s what makes good TV.” This is the unsurprising part, if he has to say: after a whole lot of seasons with Re:vale he’s come to trust them to deliver, even if he does have to swallow an energy drink or three during the process. Their in-show surprises are also unsurprising, in a way—Okarin pauses, wondering if that’s what you call irony, when something is so guaranteed to be surprising that the surprise in itself becomes unsurprising? Or—

“ _—Okariiiin!!_ ” He loses that train of thought once Momo crashes into him from behind. “Thank you! You’re the best! I love you!”

“Momo-kun!”

“We put a lot on you last minute, sorry.” Yuki gently peels Momo off of Okarin’s shoulders, and gives him that quiet, private, _Yuki_ smile. Okarin’s hand flies up to his chest.

Momo scratches his nose. “Yeah, um. Sorry, Okarin, I know we can be a handful! I promise to reflect on my actions and everything, too, so um…”

Okarin laughs back. “It’s okay! My job is to support you,” he replies, straightening glasses that don’t really need it. “Anyways, I’m glad we made it in time! Though to be honest, I was really confused when you told me to bring ‘the secret weapon in my top drawer, ASAP’... not to mention, how many you had.”

Momo winks and points finger guns as Yuki’s hand flies up to his face. “Gotta be prepared, y’know!”

“Were they custom-printed? Or did you make them?”

“Trade secret.”

“—Pff. _Pffffft_.”

“Darling, you’re laughing a little too much... well, anyways! We did it, this spring special was a huge success! Sending off new workers and new students into the new season, Re:vale style!”

“Yep!” Okarin nods. “And that’s why I do this for you guys. You work hard every season to bring smiles to everyone, and I’m proud to be a part of that. Be it flowers, school uniforms, or underwear, leave it to me!”

Momo jumps him again. “Okariiiin! You’re wonderful! Have I ever told you that?”

Okarin laughs and pets his head. “Every season, actually.” Maybe this kind of hectic spring isn’t too bad, now that he thinks about it—that’s Re:vale’s style, and now his style, too. If anything, a _calm_ Re:vale would be a bigger cause for concern, wouldn’t it?

 

 

 

 

**IV. Oogami Banri**

Spring seems to be the same every year, now that he’s older.

It’s funny, he thinks, how people say spring is a season of change. New school year, new blossoms, changing weather—it makes sense, in a way. For Banri, though, the years have turned spring into something more stable and constant, the absence of changing classrooms and uniforms filled in by the day to day flip of the calendar in one unchanging office. Spring has become a set outside the window whose change he notices when he glances up every now and then, just one of four different sets cycled through every year.

Banri leans back and hums. It’s not bad, actually, to have that bit of stability when this business is entirely the opposite. There’s always the sudden emergency or location change, or pitch presentations to pull together or schedules to rearrange—not to mention apologies to make (thankfully those are getting fewer and fewer) and bigger industry politics to navigate (and instead these are growing in their place). But every year he can look forward to the same flowers, the same warmth, and the President gently prodding him to those same nights out drinking under the flowers. It’s a period of rest in its own way, like hitting the reset button after the chaos of winter and the holidays.

He rests his chin on his hand to watch said scenery, smiling to himself as students walk to school dressed the part in freshly-pressed uniforms. It’s hard to believe he used to be a part of that stage, that there was a time in his life when spring used to be nervously walking to school with a new haircut, or the resolve to _finally_ join that music club, or meeting a kid from some other local school. Spring has been a lot of things, with meetings, people, songs—

—His phone rings, and the screen blinks Momo’s name at him.

_Huh_. Maybe Spring does still have a few surprises for him, after all these years.

* * *

“ _Ban-saaaan!_ Thank you! So much!!” Momo is already a little tipsy, judging by the flush on his cheeks. This is, however, _Momo_ , so it could also be from his excitement in that (still) adorable way of his.

Banri just pats his back. “I’m glad I could help! Though to be honest, I’m still not sure how an autographed photo of just Nagi _specifically_ managed to help.” It’s been casually lingering in his mind: if Nagi really is that powerful a negotiation piece, the agency should start drafting up some legal T &Cs on his use. He’d hate to let another Clara Lowell slip by.

“Ah, well, don’t worry about that, Ban-san.” Momo waves a hand in front of his face, laughing the whole time. “Anyways, it helped bring nationwide peace today! At least in showbiz… that should count for something, right? If not that, then at _least_ in the Yaotome Productions offices, heheh, heheh.” He laughs into his drink. “Anesagi-san is a very loving person, did you know?” The giggles turn into snorts.

Banri shrugs and nods, fully realizing he’s not getting any more out of him. That’s okay, he decides; if it were anyone else he’d wonder but well, it’s Momo. “I’m just glad IDOLiSH7 could participate, it was a good special. Thanks for inviting them, Momo-kun!”

“We’re always happy to have them, Ban.” Yuki smiles at him, glancing upward with lidded eyes and that same infuriating ability to look pristine despite being a few drinks in. “And you should come along more often, too.”

Momo giggles and nods enthusiastically, and the flower still in his hair shakes—a remnant of the special they’d just finished filming together. “Yeah! Though wait, oh my god, Ban-san watching me… wait _waitwaitwait_ , I need to practice more! But aah, Ban-san, that doesn’t mean ‘don’t come’, okay? You should _definitely_ come over!”

“Well,” Banri blinks, trying and failing in his surprise to hide his smile. “I’ll think about it.”

* * *

It’s a little later than he expected, but he still manages to catch a train back to the dorms. There are some last-minute schedules and documents to drop off, but that’s expected—that’s the nature of this industry, after all, there will always be _something_. But as he walks he marvels at what just happened, the warm air of the company and conversation from barely minutes ago still lingering around him. Talking like this with Momo and Yuki, it’s, it’s _new_. But it’s nice.

Tsumugi is there when he walks into the common area, and it looks like she had the same idea as him: she’s dividing documents into neat piles in front of her, concentrating very hard as she adds written notes and tabs.

“Still working hard, huh?”

Tsumugi snaps her head up. “Oogami-san! I didn’t realize you were dropping by—” She hastily shifts her papers to make room. “Ah, I’m guessing you’re here for tomorrow’s prep, too?”

Banri digs out his papers and holds them up for her to see. “Yep.” He sits across from her, sorting papers into piles of his own. “Today sure was a long day, wasn’t it?”

Tsumugi leans back and sighs. “Yes, it was. But we pulled it off! I’m still surprised we did, but it’s really thanks to Re:vale, isn’t it?”

“They’ve always been a little reckless, and hmm... _over-the-top_ like that. But in a way, that is their strength.” He thinks back to the mysterious photo of Nagi. “Though, I wouldn’t discount our own boys. I have a feeling they deserve some credit, too!”

Tsumugi smiles in response, tired but accomplished, and it strikes him then how much she’s grown. She really did handle today’s sudden recording very well, carrying the members with a level-headed dependability that makes it hard to believe she used to forget to buy notebooks for school. And the way she smiles with pride at the boys she’s raised receiving their due credit, well... it’s also new. But good. _Great_ , even. “They really did do well tonight, didn’t they?” She finishes her work with placing a book on Riku’s pile, and Banri blinks slowly when he recognizes it.

“Oh!” Banri picks up the book, chuckling softly. “Well, this is familiar.”

Tsumugi flushes slightly. “Do you remember? You bought me a copy of that book when I started high school.”

Banri _hmms_ slightly as he turns over the book. The cover art, surprisingly, has improved a bit. “I did, didn’t I?”

“I remembered it all of a sudden the other day, when I passed by that bookstore near the station! Riku-san recommended me a book a while ago, so I thought I’d give him one in return. It-it was a good book, I enjoyed it a lot! Thank you for back then.”

Banri glances over the back cover, and as his eyes trace the summary he’s transported to years ago, when Takanashi Productions became something to him. Something stable and comforting—a home, he wanted to dare to think. People—President Takanashi, Tsumugi—who he could support wholeheartedly. He surfaces from the memory and looks up at Tsumugi, all grown up and in her new role of supporting others. It hits him again.

Spring is still full of surprises for him. And, he decides, he really doesn’t mind.

**Author's Note:**

> im a sucker for banre:v


End file.
